


Sing To Me (I Am Not Doing Well)

by Calamity_Hero_Awakens



Category: Saw (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Coffee Shops, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Intrusive Thoughts, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Paranoia, Past Violence, Photography, Psychological Trauma, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-04
Updated: 2020-06-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:26:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24539974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calamity_Hero_Awakens/pseuds/Calamity_Hero_Awakens
Summary: "Shut up! My family needs me!"Adam nearly jumped out of his skin as the voice shouted in his mind, echoing off the sides of his skull and rattling his unstable brain. His eyes shot open and he pushed himself away from the table, his back smacking into the soft cushion of the bench behind him. His breath was coming faster and his heart was slamming against his ribcage, his eyes glassy.And there, sitting in the chair opposite him, was Lawrence Gordon.
Relationships: Adam Faulkner-Stanheight/Lawrence Gordon
Comments: 1
Kudos: 26





	Sing To Me (I Am Not Doing Well)

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from the song "Sing To Me" by Missio

After being left in that godforsaken hellhole for days on end, Adam couldn't stand the silence. When he had been taken to the hospital, there had always been the sound of people roaming the halls, nurses speaking with doctors or patients, and of course, his own heart beat on the monitor. It had been after his release from the hospital that Adam had returned to a silent atmosphere.

With nowhere left to go, Adam had returned to his shithole of an apartment. The door had been unlocked and upon entering the living space, he had quickly discovered that a large portion of the few things he had left were gone. He had known that things would be taken as evidence, but it was still an unfortunate discovery.

He hated his apartment, despised it with his entire being. He knew it was stupid - the apartment had done nothing wrong, it was just a living space in a dilapidating building - but that didn't stop the rage and fear that crept up his spine whenever he was alone, which was always. Perhaps if he'd had a roommate, the space wouldn't have felt so unbearably claustrophobic. It didn't make much sense, but Adam was desperate to not be alone, not after he'd spent so much time alone.

The nights were always the worst. Adam would try putting his headphones on and blasting his music, but that didn't seem to be enough. He could still hear the creak of the floorboards, the quiet closing of the closet door, his own heart as it began to race.

There was nothing there. There never was.

Adam found himself increasingly talking to himself when he was alone, especially at night. It was never about anything important, just any little thought that ran through his brain came out of his mouth. It was nearly four in the morning one night when Adam finally stopped, running his hands over his face and breathing out slowly. He knew he needed help; healthy, functioning adults didn't lay awake for days on end talking to themselves. Unfortunately, "help" meant money, and that was something Adam didn't have.

The next morning, having slept a mere half hour, Adam found himself wandering to his front door, wanting to leave. He dreaded spending another day holed up in his apartment and, even if he was just going to sit at the park all day, anything was better than what he was currently doing.

Opening the door, Adam found a red piece of paper taped to his door, the word "EVICTION NOTICE" printed at the top in thick, bold letters. He had known it was coming, considering he hadn't paid rent in over two months. Deep down, he knew he had only been allowed to remain there for so long because the landlord had taken pity on him after his face had been shown on the news for weeks on end, but that didn't stop the deep ache in his chest. He had nowhere else to go, but then again, sleeping in his car might have been better than listening to the constant creaks of his apartment and the sound of his own voice as he tried to drown out the noise.

Pulling down the small collection of duffel bags he had shoved in the top of his closet, Adam threw them on his bed, wasting no time in pulling his clothing out of the closet and dresser drawers. He haphazardly folded them before stuffing the articles of clothing in two of the bags, moving on to gather his few other possessions that he deemed worth keeping.

Items packed, Adam sighed, taking one last look around the apartment. It looked just as empty as before. Heaving the straps of the bags onto his shoulders, Adam picked up the third bag and turned to leave. No time like the present.

His foot bumped something and he stopped, glancing over the bag that hung against his left side to see a cardboard box. Finding he couldn't recall what the contents of the box might be, Adam bent down to examine it, his curiosity piqued. Surprisingly, it was the last substantial thing he had left, something the police - surprisingly - hadn't taken with them.

A relatively expensive Nikon camera, the last thing Adam had ever felt motivated enough to save his money up for, rested inside its own box, smaller boxes containing lenses and other similar pieces of equipment surrounding it. The camera had been removed from its box only once: after purchasing it, Adam had taken it out and inspected it, examining his new piece of equipment. Now, Adam wasn't sure if he'd ever use the thing. He had no camera except this one, but since the bathroom, he hadn't even considered taking pictures again.

Stooping down, Adam awkwardly grabbed the cardboard box, balancing it under one arm against his chest. He may not ever resume photography, but he could at least put a price on the camera and its components if he needed to. After all, money was money.

Bags slung over his shoulders, box in hand, and headphones sitting around his neck, Adam left his apartment without another glance, awkwardly trudging down the several flights of stairs until he finally reached the exit. Outside, it had begun to rain lightly, just another thing to add onto his already wonderful day. Popping open his trunk, Adam deposited the only personal belongings he had left before slamming it closed with unnecessary force and sliding into the driver's seat. His right hand drifted down to the hole in the seat and began to pick at the stiff material that made up the seat, something he had done countless times when his anxiety began to build.

When he had bought the car years before, the seats had been in decent condition, though there was blue duct tape covering a large tear in one of the back seats. The hole in the driver's seat had formed when Adam had dropped his cigarette while driving; he had fumbled around for it, nearly swerving into the next lane, before grabbing a hold of the item. It had only been a small burn hole, but Adam's anxious fingers had picked it into something much larger.

Resting his forehead against the steering wheel, Adam closed his eyes. What was he going to do now? He supposed getting a job was the first step, considering he was now living in his car. His mind briefly drifted to Lawrence Gordon, but he knew he couldn't do that. He couldn't stand pity and he wasn't a beggar. He could make his own money, he'd just have to live in his car for a little while until he could afford another shitty apartment. It wasn't an ideal situation, but what part of his life so far had been?

"It's been a few weeks. I should call Lawrence," Adam said aloud to himself, reaching for his cell phone in his pocket. As he pulled the device from his jeans, he opened his eyes, slouching back in his seat as he hit the redial button. It had been a mere two months since his release from the hospital and nearly as long since he had last talked to the doctor, but he hadn't had many people to talk to in that time.

"He's not gonna pick up," Adam mumbled to himself. "This is a stupid idea. God, I'm so fucking stupid. Fucking, fucking-"

"Hello?" Lawrence's voice interrupted Adam's self loathing.

"Uhh," Adam smartly replied, surprised the call had actually been answered.

"Adam?"

"Uhm, yeah, it's..." Adam sighed. "It's me."

The oncologist must have been able to sense Adam's reluctance to reply, even though he had been the one to make the call. "Are you alright?"

"I'm..." Adam wasn't sure how to reply. He sure as hell wasn't about to unload his problems on Lawrence, but he also didn't want to be dishonest. 'I wouldn't lie to you.' Adam figured it was his turn to live up to that.

"Where are you?" Lawrence suddenly replied, catching the ex-photographer off guard.

"I'm... I'm in town," Adam chose to reply. He couldn't say he was at his apartment, considering he no longer had an apartment to call his.

"Think you could meet me at the coffee shop near the hospital in an hour?"

"Yeah, I could do that." Why would Lawrence want to meet him? Didn't he have work to do?

"Great, I'll see you then," Lawrence replied before hanging up.

Adam vaguely knew which place the surgeon was talking about and went ahead and started up his car. It wasn't like he had much else to do; might as well go ahead and get there so he could wait.

The outside of the building looked exactly like the other chains that were built onto the side of it, all of the buildings occupied by various businesses and the parking lot full. Managing to find a space, Adam parked his car and stuffed the keys into his pocket as he exited the vehicle. As he approached the coffee shop - named "Saviour's Grace", perhaps because most of its patrons were employees of the hospital - Adam noticed a cheerful sign that read "Now hirring!" hung in the window, a terrible drawing of a smiley face accompanying the handwritten words. Considering the sign wasn't even spelled correctly, Adam figured he might have a chance at getting hired. He wasn't thrilled at the prospect of becoming a barista, but any job was better than no job.

The inside of the establishment smelled strongly of coffee and some kind of cleaner and was paired with a warm, relaxed atmosphere. A long, single, padded bench stretched across the right wall and several small tables were placed every few feet, a chair on the opposite side of the table. A large round table with six chairs was shoved into the left corner beside the door, a common lounge area with faux leather chairs opposite it. A handful of people in scrubs were seated at the long benched area and the round table was occupied by several doctor-looking individuals, laptops, papers, and folder files spread out across the wooden table top. Thankfully, no one paid Adam any mind.

Approaching the counter, Adam was greeted by a woman smiling fondly at him.

"Welcome to Saviour's Grace, how may I serve you?"

"Uhm, the sign in the window says you're hiring?" Way to be smooth, Adam.

"Did you want to fill out an application or go ahead and do an interview?" Judging by the woman's quick, rehearsed response, Adam could only guess how many people had already applied.

"How long does an interview take?" Adam asked, his hands fidgeting with the bottom hem of his tee shirt.

"Only a couple of minutes," the cashier patiently replied. Bless her.

"I can do an interview," Adam replied and followed the woman behind the counter and into a room off to the side when she gestured for him. The room was relatively small, a tiny desk shoved into the corner among the racks of supplies that rested along the walls. A man, no older than seventeen, was sitting in the chair behind the desk, his feet propped up as he pushed the buttons on his phone. When his eye caught the two people as they entered the room, he stood and walked past them, leaving the seat vacant. The woman took a seat and Adam sat down in the plastic chair on the other side of the desk, awkwardly looking at the various supplies that were stocked on the shelves. It was only a simple interview, but his anxiety was eating him up inside and he couldn't keep himself from mumbling to himself in an attempt to calm himself down.

"It's just an interview. Fucking hell, I need this job. Lawrence will be here in a little bit. Why did he even want to meet me here anyway?"

"Excuse me?" the woman asked, glancing up at Adam as she pulled open one of the drawers and grabbed a piece of paper.

"Nothing," Adam replied and the woman didn't push it.

Giving him another soft smile, she said, "Alright, well, my name is Becky."

"Adam. Adam Faulkner."

🔗🔗🔗🔒🔗🔗🔗

The interview had been a disaster in his opinion. He found it difficult to make eye contact and he stumbled over his words like a teenager trying to explain why they were caught with pornography. Thankfully, Becky had seemed relaxed and patient, trying to reassure Adam that he was alright and to take his time.

"You'd be surprised how many people get anxious with interviews."

That had done nothing to relax Adam, but he had forced himself to give a little smile and simply agree before they continued. When the interview had finally concluded, the woman had given Adam a smile for the millionth time and told him they would be in contact with him shortly. With the interview over, Adam realized he still had over half an hour before Lawrence was due to arrive.

"Would it be alright if I hung out here for a little while? I'm supposed to meet somewhere here in a little bit," Adam asked once he was on the other side of the counter.

"That would be fine," Becky replied to Adam's question with a smile. Adam was beginning to think she didn't know how to make any other expression and he gave her a quick nod before taking a seat on the bench at the table closest to the door. Though the coffee shop wasn't exactly quiet - people spoke amongst themselves and behind the counter, the baristas were clanging around as they cleaned - Adam found himself uncomfortable with the noise level.

Pulling his headphones from around his neck, he slid them up over his head so they covered his ears and reached into his pocket, blindly pushing the buttons on his portable music player. As music began pouring through the speakers, Adam turned the volume up loudly so that he could no longer hear any of the noises around him. The nurses a few tables over cast him a few glances but he ignored them, closing his eyes instead.

Even with the distraction of heavy music to fill his ears, Adam couldn't focus. His mouth began to move as he mumbled to himself and he was sure that the nurses were probably staring now, but he also couldn't find the energy to care.

With his elbows propped up on the table, Adam rested his head between his hands, his eyes remaining closed as he spoke to himself. The words quietly pouring from his mouth followed no particular train of thought, nor did they fit together in any way.

"I really hope I get this fucking job. I don't want to live in a goddamn shithole again but it's not like I'd be able to afford much better anyway. Maybe I should move out of town. Maybe I should live in a different state. New York's too damn expensive anyway."

A spark of pain shot through his shoulder like it typically did and Adam cringed in on himself, balling himself up tighter in his seat, crossing his legs beneath him. As his thoughts continued to leak out through his mouth, Adam found himself paying less and less attention to his words as his brain began to choose a new, familiar, and dreaded topic.

Hopefully Lawrence would be there soon. He had kept his promise last time and that situation had been far more dire than a simple request to meet up. This time, there was no ticking clock or blood loss slowing him down and not showing up wouldn't mean death for one of them.

Adam wondered what Lawrence had been up to. He figured most of his time was spent on physical therapy; the last time they had spoken, the doctor had mentioned something about having to relearn how to walk now that he had only one foot. He had also mentioned that he was getting a divorce.

It was ironic to Adam in a way; the family that needed Lawrence so badly - sometimes in his nightmares, Adam could still hear the doctor's cry of, "My family needs me!" - hadn't been able to make it work. Sometimes Adam thought it was his fault that they had fallen apart but Lawrence always reassured him that it wasn't him, that they had been putting off the inevitable divorce until they no longer could, even before everything had completely gone to hell. Everyone was happier that way, he insisted, even Diana seemed satisfied with the change, especially with the peacefulness it brought. Adam had personally believed that to be bullshit, but he knew it wasn't his place to say so. He had done enough damage for one lifetime.

Before that talk, Adam had wondered if Lawrence's family had made it out alright and he was honestly relieved to know that the bloodshed hadn't extended to the doctor's family. They were the innocent ones, they shouldn't have had to suffer because of Adam and Lawrence's mistakes.

"Don't worry. I'll bring someone back. I promise."

Adam's arms shook in their place propped up on the table. He didn't want to think about what Lawrence looked like just before he left Adam, the way his eyes were teary and his skin was pale, the rich and sickening contrast of blood covering both of them as they grasped at each other, Adam begging Lawrence not to leave him. He also didn't want to think about the way Lawrence had looked when he had taken a saw and cut through the skin, muscles, and bone just above his ankle. He could still hear the doctor's muffled grunts of pain and the saw blade as it ground against the bone, tearing it away bit by bit.

Adam felt his stomach churn and he considered fleeing to the bathroom, but he didn't think he would throw up. He had a relatively strong stomach and if he hadn't thrown up then, he didn't think he would do it now. Regardless, he couldn't stop the shaking in his arms and shoulders, his breaths coming a little quicker with the memory flooding his mind.

"Shut up! My family needs me!"

Adam nearly jumped out of his skin as the voice shouted in his mind, echoing off the sides of his skull and rattling his unstable brain. His eyes shot open and he pushed himself away from the table, his back smacking into the soft cushion of the bench behind him. His breath was coming faster and his heart was slamming against his ribcage, his eyes glassy.

And there, sitting in the chair opposite him, was Lawrence Gordon.

Adam ripped the headphones away from his ears, the item coming to rest around his neck once again. Lawrence was actually there. Adam had known he would keep good on his promise, but the revelation that Lawrence had actually wanted to meet with him and had shown up after months of not seeing each other following a traumatic event still shocked him.

Adam was nearly panting from his previous fear as he tried to choke down the lump in his throat. The doctor wore a serious look and one of his hands came up to rest over one of Adam's.

"Adam?"

Said man's wide brown eyes stared at him with doe-like fear.

"Are you alright?"

"I..." Where to even begin? Should he mention the sounds he always heard that weren't there? Or perhaps the fact that he couldn't stop talking to himself? Or maybe, just maybe, the fact that he was now homeless and jobless?

Lawrence's gaze flicked down to their hands and his thumb rubbed softly over Adam's knuckles before he froze, his expression screwing up in slight confusion. His thumb slid to the side and he grabbed Adam's hand gently, pulling it a little closer as he looked it over.

Oh. Or they could start with that.

"Adam, what is this?"

Adam felt himself shrink into himself even more at the question. It wasn't an accusation but Adam felt scolded all the same. He had forgotten about the scars on his hands and arms. They were too uniform and consistent to try and pass off as something else, but he still didn't want to have to explain what he had done. Wasn't it already obvious?

"Have you been cutting yourself?" Lawrence asked, surprisingly patient and gentle. Adam wasn't exactly sure why, but he had been expecting the doctor to lash out, yell at him, accuse him of... something. Adam wasn't sure what yet.

"No," Adam meekly replied. He opened his mouth to continue but thought better of it and shut his mouth. Best to remain quiet.

"Yes?" Lawrence prodded, trying to get him to say something.

The shame was too great. Adam couldn't force himself to look at Lawrence as he mumbled, "I... Burned myself... With heated needles..."

Ducking his head down, Adam grumbled to himself, "Didn't you learn anything? Supposed to appreciate your life. Stupid, stupid-"

"Adam, look at me," Lawrence's voice suddenly instructed and Adam pulled his hand away from the oncologist's grip, tucking his hands under his outer shirt to hide them.

"Adam," Lawrence said again and this time, it almost sounded like he was pleading. "Please look at me."

Adam forced himself to look up, Lawrence's tone making his chest ache.

"Hurting yourself isn't the answer. You have people who care about you, people who don't want you to-"

"No I don't," Adam miserably said, gripping the fabric of his shirt and balling his hands into fists.

"Yes you d-"

"No I don't!" Adam nearly shouted, several of the other patrons in the building turning to look at him. If he didn't think he would get hired before, he knew he had just killed any chance he might have had with that outburst.

Staring into the doctor's face, Adam felt the tears burning his eyes and he forced himself to get a grip. He wasn't about to cry in front of Lawrence.

"I'm not you, Lawrence. I don't have people who come to visit me when I'm stuck in the hospital, I don't have people to talk to when I feel like I'm losing my goddamn mind, I don't have people willing to help me when I'm homeless."

Lawrence looked stunned and he sat in silence for a long moment, simply staring at Adam. The ex-photographer finally looked away, focusing on the empty table to his left. Lawrence's silence was concerning and he felt the quiet leak into his mind through the cracks in his sanity, prompting him to start talking to himself again in a quiet voice.

"I shouldn't have fucking said that. Goddamn it. Gonna have to fucking leave this state, start over somewhere, try to fix myself."

"Adam," Lawrence suddenly said, "you're not broken."

Adam hadn't expected Lawrence to be able to hear him and the fact that he had made Adam more self conscious than before.

"'A' and 'B' conversation," Adam grumbled, "so 'C' your way out of it."

"You're talking to yourself," Lawrence pointed out.

"What else is new," Adam deadpanned, glancing at Lawrence's face.

Another long moment of silence ensued and Adam was about to start quietly berating himself again when Lawrence said, "You're wrong."

"About?"

"You do have people who care about you."

"Lawrence, I don't-"

"You have me."

Adam's eyes darted to Lawrence's face, waiting with dread for the inevitable punch line of the joke. When one didn't come, he began to fidget in place and laugh uncomfortably.

"Okay, what's the joke?"

Lawrence looked confused. "I'm being serious, Adam. I want to help you however I can because I want you to get better, not because I want something from you."

"I..." Adam wasn't even sure what to say and his mouth hung slightly agape.

"Are you actually homeless?"

Adam snapped his mouth closed but nodded in shame.

"Then, as your friend, I'm asking if you'll come stay with me."

Adam quickly shook his head. "I can't take advantage of you like that."

"You're not taking advantage of me. I'm offering it. I want you to get better, Adam."

The tears were burning Adam's eyes again and his short-circuited brain had practically stopped working. The only thing he could think to do was stand up, approach Lawrence, and press his forehead to the other man's.

As he stood, his foot bumped a pair of metal crutches that were set on the floor beside the table and Adam vaguely wondered why he hadn't noticed them before, but he also hadn't seen Lawrence enter the building, so he supposed it was logical that he missed them.

The distance between the two closed quickly and Adam leaned down to press his forehead against Lawrence's, his eyes closing. If the other man was uncomfortable with the gesture, he didn't let it show. It actually seemed to be the opposite, considering one of his hands reached out and took one of Adam's, his fingers lightly running over the scars that littered Adam's pale skin. Warm breath ghosted over his face and Adam breathed a short sigh through his nose, relishing in the contact. It was the first real contact (besides doctors' hands touching him as he was stitched up) he had received since he had been left to die in the bathroom and it was made all the better by the fact that it was Lawrence. Warm, comfortable, safe Lawrence Gordon.

"How's your shoulder?" Lawrence quietly asked, the fingers of his other hand ghosting over Adam's shoulder above the double layers of his shirts.

"Hurts like a bitch sometimes," Adam candidly responded with a sense of indifference, his eyes remaining closed.

A silence stretched on after that and Adam knew that the other doctors and nurses had to be watching - if they knew Lawrence, then word of this would probably spread around the hospital quickly - but couldn't care less.

When Lawrence finally pulled back, he kept Adam's hand in his.

"So how have you actually been?" Lawrence asked, rephrasing his question from earlier.

"I'm not doin' well," Adam finally admitted, and for the first time, he felt okay with that. After all, the only way left to go was up, and somehow, he knew that Lawrence would be able to help him with that.

**Author's Note:**

> "Sing to me, I am not doing well / Getting tired of my own words / Sing to me 'cause I can't hear myself / Through the loudness of my own hurts / Call me selfish when I say this, say this / I'm kinda helpless, and I need you / Sing to me 'cause I'm not doing well"
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xu3rO7xtf0c


End file.
